about

Ato Periférico, or “Act from the Outside” is a group of young performers from the favelas of Recife, Brazil. A mixture of hip-hop, rap, break-dance and capoeira, this multi-talented group writes, records, and choreographs original music and performances.

credits

released 22 October 2010

The Ato Periférico CD is available in partnership with Shine A Light, an international non-profit that helps youth in impoverished communities sell their music and art as an income generating project. Kurt Shaw, the Executive Director of Shine A Light, recorded all the music at a make shift studio in Recife.

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Living in the slum ain’t no easy task.
Those who live in Arruda must be alert. I say,
Living in the slum ain’t no easy task.
Those who live in Santo Amaro must also be alert.

Many brothers are gone, but I’m still around
I’m a B-boy, a capoeirista, a graffiti writer, an MC.
C’mon over, bro’
I’m M.C. Okado, from the edge of the canal.
And I’m telling you:
When I’m on stage, I don’t envy anyone,
In this material world, you’re worth what you own.
“We’re from the slum, so we face discrimination when applying for work”
“And then, when we get work, they say we’re sell-outs”
The slums are full of junkies,
Bullets fly everywhere,
Kids can’t play outside without risking their lives.
With so much violence around me, I don’t even know what to do.
But God is with me, and I’ll never get involved.

Living in the slum -- what a nightmare!
Most killings take place in Cardinô.
He’s responsible for the ruin of Pernambuco
Is proud of having eliminated so many of our brothers.
He feeds on gunshots and corpses.
He has no talent, no ideas, no common sense, and nothing to talk about.

What’s up, man? Chipan M.C. here
Taking over the mike and speaking out loud to everyone who cares to listen:
Hail Grupo Pé no Chão!
Another year is over,
And so are many lives.
Cars, drugs, confusion in our minds.
The TV, which was supposed to be educational,
Is the drug that deceives me.
My present has no future,
That’s not what I want.
Maybe I’ll end up being another junkie, a sot,
Penniless, fucked up.
But I won’t end up in jail.
I don’t even think about that,
‘Cause it’s not the life I’d want.
The devil tempts me, he wants me to give in,
But I resist, I’m a warrior. I know that life is hard.
I move on, carrying with me a faith in God and a humble heart.
Death, massacres, people burnt alive.
Children, women, young and old men,
All living in the street, begging for their bread:
“Thank you for the soup, sir. May God richly bless you.”
Honky-tonks, cheap liquor, people coming and going.
I blend in the crowd,
No one knows one another.

One, two, three die, but no one knows the reason.
Four, five, six die, but no one finds a solution.
Friends, enemies, police and drug dealers have splattered our streets.
Their blood has stained our river.
Innocent people lock themselves in their homes.
Indignant, fearful, they watch the world through their windows.
“I think I just heard another gunshot . . . .”
Another body on the ground, six feet under, a candle lit.
Only prayer can help him now.
Darkness is a trap.
Gunshots, stabbings.
I saw a man in a uniform
But I kept to myself. I never say anything.
I think about it over and over, then I wonder:
Recife is another word for prejudice, it doesn’t do anyone any good.
Unscrupulous people are everywhere.
For power and fame they’d stab you in the back.
Money is almost everything, but what it can’t buy is happiness.
Be grateful for your freedom, don’t get yourself in trouble,
Or you’ll end up in hell, where they’ll treat you like a stray dog,

Humiliating you and beating the crap out of you.
You’ll feed on sorrow.

It might be your picture, or mine
On the front pages tomorrow.
Your mother weeping, your grieving,
Reliving the day you were born, your first birthday party.
Think about it, and reason with me:
Why do you want to become a criminal, if you already know how it ends.
It’s always jail, or the graveyard - I see that a lot.
Because of filthy money and drugs, I see it happen.
I know it’s hard to be rational,
But I also know that only once you start, your chances of quitting will be one in a hundred.
Your mother is afflicted,
Her baby has no milk.
She has plywood for walls,
While down the street someone is having a feast.
Drugs, women, guns by the ton.
Everything comes easy, but it always ends up in TEARS.

You know they’re watching you, raiding homes.
Sooner or later they’ll catch you, and you’ll be sent to the clink.
And you can picture the rest of the story:
You mother, every Sunday, waiting in line to bring you a home-cooked meal.
No woman deserves that.
Even the worst of mothers deserves to be drinking champagne at the beach,
And treated like a queen.
While you’re locked up, your friends will disappear.
The only one who’ll stick with you is your mother –
The one whose advice you ignored, even despised.
Now drink your cup and value your life.
Live your life with dignity,
Don’t be the next one down.

Yo, bro’, stay alert and don’t become another victim of society.
I’m one of the newest Brazilian hip-hoppers.
Hail to the ghettos in Recife and Olinda.

I see a terrible image in my dreams:
A son killing his father, a father killing his son.
Violence sucks, but rap is commitment.
When a rwelve year old kid wants to be a bandit,
What future can he hope for?
Only three fates: jail, tomb, ot maybe paradise.
So I critique and tell the truth:
If you want to be a good citizen,
Stop, study, and work;
Your future will surely change

The kids at school call me nigger,
but I tell them I’m a Brazilian citizen.
I’m not ashamed of my dark skin,
I hold my head high and don’t look back,
Because those that talk trasj don’t know what they’re saying.
I’m poor, I’m black, and I live in the favela, but it’s me that’s talking to you.

The one talking to you is the youngest MC,
My name is Ítalo, I’m a beat by from around here.

I’m a hip-hopper and I ain’t ashamed
I’m a hip-hopper but I have nothin’ to hide
You need to understand that hip-hop is a culture,
And I sing it and confess it to everyone through my verses: Order and Progress!
To those who criticize Brazilian hip-hop, here’s my protest:
Order and Progress!

I’m Brazilian, and that means I never give up.
I hold my head high and take on life’s battles.
There are thousands, millions of people bein’ discriminated against, so:
You, writer, keep on writin’!
You, hip-hopper, keep on writin’ your songs!
And you, DJ, just keep encouraging us!
Because I don’t mind if people look down on me.
I keep lookin’ ahead, which is where my freedom lies.

United we stand!
We [the hip-hoppers] are warriors – we think of nothin’ else.
Hip-hop is my life, not some social disease. Tell me the truth,
What do you think? Be definite -- think honestly:
The hip-hop movement is the strength of your community!

Now I’m gonna say this, and you might think it’s funny:
My name is Detefón, and that’s how people honor me.
I don’t kill bugs, I don’t kill roaches.
I make rhymes, and that’s my mission.

There he was, running through the street markets in the countryside of Northeastern Brazil. People fled from him, his name was feared. He was a gang leader, a killer.

A cangaceiro must be tough, just like he was. He was the poor people’s hero.
He planned his every move. Because to live in the cangaço one’s got to have brains.
And Virgulino Ferreira ruled in the northeast for 20 years.
He fought against discrimination and punished it with death.
A hero to some, a bandit to others.
Dark skin, a shaven face,
He was known as: Lampião.

Northeast: a land of heat, of drought, of prayer
A land of warriors who fight with their own hearts, their courage, their humbleness,
Their strength, and their determination.
A land whose warriors fight tragedy and prejudice day after day.
As well as unemployment, disrespect, racism, discrimination, and famine.
Seven words that our society can’t stand.
Isn’t it time to lift up our heads?

Screw those who are against us!
Bear in mind that you have something to be proud of.
Don’t let the Northeastern race down!

I am not Lampião, and I am not a cangaceiro,
But I care for my neighbor and I will fight for justice.
Listen to my words and meditate on their meaning.
Pay attention, listen, think.

A girl at the beaches, the doctrine she teaches
You cover, uncover and live undercover
It’s joy and it’s sadness, it is complete madness
Your insulting words, your face
(Don’t forget where he lives)
The guy called me a gangster
How sad is it? A northeastern guy who doesn’t even know who his family was.
‘Cause I found out he too is from the countryside.
So c’mon over, bro, for I discriminate no one
We’re all brothers here

Chorus

Racism is still alive,
If you haven’t noticed, just look around yourself.
This is my message.
Mr. Hotshot, Mr Top-hat,

This is what I think. Anyone who denies his own origins is not worthy of respect.
Because he is a low-life, he’s evil, he doesn’t care about anyone.
And he blames it on poverty.
You need to live with propriety in order to have some dignity.
Even when life is too demanding, you oughta keep your morals and your understanding
A true warrior doesn’t wait for an opportunity, he creates one
We don’t slack, we don’t cheat
Because we are all Brazilians, we all have some black in our blood, we are all descendents of Lampião.

Enough with the violence, this is too much!
Let’s stop it today – let’s make some peace!
Lower your gun,
Recife has had enough of war.

I wish all this violence would stop,
And that our people could show the world that Recife has a conscience.
People get killed every day in the ghettoes,
The criminals are the kids’ only role models.
Some kids grow up and become hard-working citizens,
But many become thieves and end up gettin’ shot,
Their bodies lying on strips of cardboard, out on the sidewalk.
Is that how you want to end up?
“You will see the results if you lower your gun:
Those who were your enemies will become your allies”
But he paid no attention to what his friend was saying,
Then there were the gunshots and everything stopped.
He was never the same person again.
He’s not afraid of death anymore.
He does as he pleases,
He lives the good life,
Though he’s always alert to what goes on around him.
Every night he kneels down to pray,
Asking God to bring him peace of mind.

I’m underage, and this has been my message.
Help Geninha understand that rap is no illusion.
There’s a big bad wolf,
And there are four little mice.
There’s a stick, there’s a duck in your tiny, little shoe.
Here’s Leo, Ximena went that a-way,
Hold on, let me finish:
Hello to my brothers from DI-SMP, ADBD and ADA.
We are few in numbers, but our motivation is real.
People think we’re pickpockets,
But bro’, they need to understand that not all citizens of Santo Amaro are criminals.

I made this rap as a tool
For the awareness of women who suffer domestic violence.
Women, don't wait until the abuse gets worse!
Claim your rights! Press charges!

I'm going to say it, and you need to listen:
The violence against women must be stopped!
And while it doesn't, it’s our duty to protest this unacceptable
practice,
Which has become more and more common.
Women are being beaten--sometimes to death--by their own husbands.
Rarely does anyone press charges.
The women think of their children and therefore choose to remain silent.
Some women are so used to the abuse, they believe it’s natural for a drunken husband to hit his wife for no reason at all.
There are many kinds of abuse. There’s physical abuse and verbal abuse,
But sexual abuse is the worst of all.
It’s the most frequent, too: Women are raped and then beaten up,
Sometimes to death.
Do not allow yourself to be subjected to it!
The law is on your side, so claim your rights!

We deserve to be respected!
Woman was not created to be a slave,
But to love and be loved.
She does so much for her husband, her children and her grandchildren,
And this is the reward she gets: a life marked by wounds, bruises and broken bones.
We have to stop this terrible practice!
I am a woman, and I hope to make my voice heard through my rap.
A woman -- a rose petal.
Unfortunately, many women resign themselves to a life of pain.
God forbid a woman should accept being abused,
Without seeming to care about her own life.
Oh my God, can it get any worse?
Women are being abused and no one does a thing.
Some men even think it’s too bad the woman doesn’t die from her beating.
Those men are insane -- they think violence is okay.
So a woman has to be smart
And talk her man out of his anger.
Maybe, if she succeeds, the bastard won't
Hit her, hurt her or kill her.

I want to make it very clear that
It’s no joke what Brazilian women are going through.
A man should never strike a woman, regardless of her race.
That is why I tell you that no one is ever going to close my mouth.
All this violence against women has got to stop!

Brazilian rap is here to stay,
It's revolutionary,
Alerting a new generation,
Providing crucial information
For all those who have grown to accept our social situation.
Because ignorant people are stuck with the idea
That rap promotes crime and violence,
But that's not true. Our poetry comes from the ghettos,
And condemns the selfishness and uselessness of the upper crust.
Unfortunately there are people who still believe that rap is the music of criminals

(Refrain)

But I thank God, because today rappers from all over the country
Are making their statement.
Though the upper class treats us rappers with contempt, Brazilian rap's banner is still flying,
Spreading its message of protest against injustice.
I'm tired of this situation.
I turn on the TV, and all I see is sensuality and material ostentation.
Will anyone ever broadcast the truth?
Those who dared open their mouths ended up in jail or the grave -
Such as Planet Hemp and Facção Central1

Refrain

They-the politicians and authorities--treat our people as if we were unthinking, unreasoning animals.
Censorship has been allowed to thrive in our culture.
But we defeated the military dictatorship in this country,
We have won the right to express ourselves.
Therefore, no one will stop the Brazilian rap movement,
Which has emerged as a light at the end of the tunnel
of all ghetto dwellers in Brazil.
Its effects are as powerful and wide-ranging as a radioactive bomb.
Brazilian rap is the system's worst nightmare!
It always proves the statistics wrong.
People keep repeating that rap is but an ode to crime,
But that's a lie.
The upper crust makes up those lies
Because we're the voice of the ghettos.

(Refrain)

We're striving to prove them wrong and show the world
That talent and values can be found in the ghetto.
Rap gives me the power to express myself.
I was born and raised in the slum - it is my home.
That's why I send you my verses. It is through rap that I express myself.
Rapping is my destiny.
God is with me, guiding me and helping me
To spread the truth, be an M.C. and go to school, so I can win this battle.
Don't fool yourself. Brazilian rap is revolutionizing the nation!

As I walk barefoot, my mind assimilates all.
I want to put an end
To everything that hinders my progress.
I’m drowning in an endless sea,
But I won’t let the violence engulf me.
I’m not alone in this fight -- there are many innocent people here,

Have peace and unity, love and hope
Enough with the violence, enough with revenge!
Be humble, be compassionate!
Respect the people of your community!

This is Jonas Racional speaking,
And I choose my words carefully
Brazilian rap doesn’t preach violence.
The violence will come to an end when people understand that
they have to do everything they can to avoid it.
Stay out of trouble, brother. Even if someone messes with you,
Say “no” to violence!
That’s truly a noble attitude.
Keep these words in mind.